There's Always Another Wound to Discover
by AnastaciaBeaverhausen
Summary: It may not be where he thought he would end up, but Kurt couldn't imagine life being any more perfect. Living in Las Vegas was like stepping into a new adventure each day. It wasn't until the frontman for the new band that things began to change.
1. Now You're Here and You Don't Know Why

"Come here often?"

The youthful bright voice nearly made the man jump out of his skin. He had been trying to slip out of the house of his latest in a long line of one-night stands unnoticed. No awkward morning talk or questions. No when am I going to see you again? The man sighed. So much for that plan.

_I knew I shouldn't have come home with that Damn Bartender._

He turned towards the kitchen to see the owner of the questioning voice was a young boy, perched on a tall barstool. He couldn't have been older than eight years old. He was a handsome child, despite his dark blonde hair sticking out in every direction. He sat there calmly gazing at the man. It that more than anything caught his attention; piercing blue eyes that shone like a glass still pond.

_He's got the same eyes as the Damn Bartender!_

"You don't have to sneak out you know. I'm the only one ever awake this early on a Sunday morning," the boy flashed a toothy grin. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?"

_Coffee sounds magical. _"Um. Yeah, sure."

The boy hopped from the stool gesturing for the man to have a seat.

_Polite little guy._

"I can put it in a travel cup if you still want to bolt," the boy said when the man didn't make a move.

Not to be bested by a child he took the seat. The boy made his way to the counter and the full coffee machine. The man watched as he pulled from a stack of disposable travel cups.

"Do you take it with cream? Sugar?"

The man smiled at the mini-barista. "Milk and a little sugar will do."

_What the hell is going on here? Las night I followed that Damn Bartender here for sex, good sex, _he amended, _and now some little kid is serving me coffee like this happens , does this happen everyday?_

The boy promptly brought his coffee as ordered and sat at another stool across the table. He looked at the man like he was waiting for something.

Realization quickly dawned on the man. _He looks just like the Damn Bartender!_

"So," he went fishing, "you live here with family?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Who else would I live with?"

_Snarky little shit. _He took a sip. _Good quality. _"You make a decent cup of coffee kid."

"Its good to know I have a fallback in the service industry," the boy deadpanned.

"How old are you?"

"Younger than my vocabulary lets on," the boy smiled again.

An awkward silence fell. To look at the boy one would think that he felt as at ease in it as in conversation. Clearly he was well practiced.

_What the hell was the Damn Bartender's name? _"So you related to da-uh-the bartender?"

He saw the boy's eyes dart away for a second over his shoulder before he answered. "You mean Kurt? Yeah you could say that. I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"Eric," the man supplied. _The kid must be is younger brother._

"Eric," a familiar soft voice echoed from behind him.

And there was the Damn Bartender; Kurt his name was Kurt, leaning against the doorframe wearing a red woolen robe.

Eric quickly looked between the man and the boy. They could be identical if they were the same age!

"I see you've met Justin," Kurt continued, "my son."


	2. Somewhere There's Speaking

The door slamming shut echoed through the house.

"Well," Justin cleared his throat, "I guess he's not going to be my new 'daddy' then."

Kurt scoffed and made his way to the coffee machine. "I thought maybe you'd set him on fire he jumped up and ran out so fast." _Bless everything that there are timers on these things. _He noticed missing coffee from the pot. "Did you give him coffee?"

"Oh please. It's not me who scares these guys away. Well its me but more the idea of me. Not actually me until you throw our familial relationship in their faces. 'Oh hey here's my son! A son I have one! Look at my kid!' And I didn't give him coffee I served him coffee like a good host."

"Familial? Was that your word for today?" Kurt asked as he took the newly vacated seat. This kid was too smart for his own good. "I knew that word of the day calendar was a bad idea when I bought it for you. You use bigger words than I do sometimes."

He was rewarded with his own trademark eye roll. "Actually it was my word two weeks ago. Thanks for noticing."

Kurt hummed a response and took a sip of coffee. "Smart ass."

"Flattery won't make up for your poor parenting. I'm gonna go wake up Tana its her turn to make breakfast." He gracefully leapt off the stool and ran down the hall.

"What happened to my sweet baby?" Kurt called after him.

"You warped him into your clone," Justin's retreating voice replied.

Well there was no denying that fact. Kurt couldn't remember the exact moment that it had happened but he always felt that it had something to do with his insistence that no one ever baby talk to his son. Which often led to people forgetting that Justin _was _still a child.

His son. Fuck, even after almost nine years it was still an alien concept to him that he, Kurt Hummel, was a father. His more flamboyant sixteen-year-old self would have shuddered at the thought of becoming a father in just four short years.

This was not how he thought his life would be. He had large aspirations for himself. Broadway. The big city lights. He was supposed to be rubbing elbows with the beautiful and the glamorous. Living the ritzy life of a star. Not Las Vegas. Being a bartender on The Strip. Serving booze to people living more exciting lives, or at least pretending to be. Trying like a motherfucker to raise a child to be a productive member of society. No, this was not the life he had dreamed.

But, he had to be honest with himself.

He couldn't imagine life being any other way.

He had to smile at the thought.

_My life is actually pretty damn near close to perfect._

He was rudely snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Justin's small feet running back to the kitchen. A very cranky, still half asleep Latina woman soon followed him.

"Christ Hummel, can't you teach your kid the concept of beauty sleep?" She paused for a moment in front of the refrigerator. "And shit, if you're already awake why don't _you_ cook breakfast for the bottomless pit here?"

She yanked the door open to retrieve the makings of their breakfast.

"Wait a hot damn minute!" She slammed the door closed with her hip. "Why are you already awake? You worked last night! Oh for fuck's sake Kurt. You had someone over last night!"

"Santana!" Kurt cut her off, a hand in the air. "Now I know I've always had a very strict policy of not treating Justin like some porcelain doll but seriously? Tone down the language for _my_ sake!"

He cast a glance at Justin back across from him to see his son trying valiantly to hold in his laughter.

"But you did though right?" She asked as she pulled out the frying pan.

"Santana—"

"His name is Eric," Justin giggled. "I served him coffee and we were having a nice chat before Dad showed up. Then he ran without even a proper good-bye."

"You know something Kurt? No matter how many times I see it I still get a little weirded out at this little game you and the kid run for your sleepovers." The bacon sizzled when it hit the heated pan. "Some people might think it sick. Some form of child abuse even."

Kurt shrugged at her words. "Let us have our fun. And no one needs to know about our 'little game' as you put it."

"Yeah," Justin piped up. He scrambled to prepare Santana's coffee before she could turn her wrath on him. He knew how to make it just the way she liked it, coffee flavored sugar-milk. "And just so long as Papa Burt and Mama Carol never find out, screw everyone else."

Kurt dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "Look Santana. See what your mouth has caused?"

He turned his best stern look to his son. "Justin when you're eighteen and a legal adult you can talk however you like. But for now, at the very least in my presence, I'm going to need to ask that you not talk like Tana. Deal?"

"Deal Dad," Justin beamed up at him. Justin never got in trouble. Conversations about behavior modifications were aplenty in the house but never serious trouble.

"You two make me sick." Santana continued to bang around the kitchen, lest the boys forget that she was there and needed attention. "He's the perfect child and you're the perfect father when by all rights he should be a horrendous little twerp for being born to a flaming twenty year old."

Father and son shrugged.

"Maybe I'll rebel when I'm a teenager," Justin suggested.

"Maybe I'll ship you to Lima if you do," Kurt responded.

Justin choked on air at the threat. "Father?"

_Oh this should be good._

"I swear that I'll remain an angel for the rest of my life."

"Then we have nothing to worry about. Now, aren't there televangelists on for you to make fun of, or something?"

Justin cast a knowing grin. "You just want to get rid of me so you can tell Tana all about Eric don't you?"

"Justin—"

The boy shot out of the kitchen. "I'm going, I'm going!"

Santana laughed and flipped the eggs. "Your kid is a handful. But he raised a good point. What did you raise last night?"

Kurt sighed. "Some drifter. The usual Vegas tourist. He caught my eye so after my shift I brought him here. And then Justin chased him off this morning with a fresh cup of coffee in hand."

"Justin didn't like him?"

"Does it matter?" Kurt looked at her incredulously. "Even if didn't bolt I don't have the time or the inclination for anything more. You know this Santana."

"I just— look. This," she gestured at him, "can't be good for the kid; to see his father, his only parent, and his revolving door of men on Sunday mornings. Justin serving coffee before you two scare the Hell out of them as some sort of twisted team."

Kurt sighed again. "Its like you said. It's just a game to us. I fuck them and he chases them off. And we do it with smiles on our faces."

"Maybe I think you deserve more?" She shrugged.

"Like what?" He settled in for story time.

"I don't know; to be happy? Find someone to settle down with? To help you raise Justin? Don't you want to make his life easier? You were raised by a single father, wasn't it nicer when Burt married Carol?"

Breakfast was served but its announcement was on hold until their discussion was finished.

"He's already being raised by his biological gay father. Don't you think that having _two_ might make his life harder?" Kurt was tired of this same argument. From Santana and from his own father. "And I don't need someone to help me raise him Santana because _you_ are helping me raise him." He reached across the table to give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"And having a boyfriend would mean I'd have to split my already limited time even more. And Justin has to come first for me, always."

"Kurt," Santana threw an arm over her best friend's shoulder. "From the second that kid came squealing out of his mother he has been your number one priority."

The air in the kitchen was thick with the serious conversation. A direct violation of rule #6 of the household.

"Well," Santana cleared her throat. "Enough of this shit. Was the guy last night good at least?"

Relieved at the turn of conversation Kurt chuckled against her neck. "He wasn't the worst, but I've had better. He was a growler though. I thought for sure he was going to wake you guys up."

"A growler?"

"Yeah," Kurt sat up straight. "Grrrrr yeah oh, grrrrr you grrrrrrr like that grrrrr I'ma come so hard grrrrrr."

"Oh sweet Jesus is that what I heard?" Her laughter warmed his heart.

"You heard nothing." God he hoped he was right. If Santana heard the growling then Justin would have for sure. And the kid already knew too much about Kurt's sex life. He hoped to avoid completely traumatizing his child until he was at least in his teens and contemplating having sex for himself.

"God Kurt, you really know how to pick 'em." She set breakfast out on the table at their usual places. "Adult conversation over for this week? Good. Squirt, come eat!"

Justin walked solemnly into the kitchen with his hands folded in front of him.

_Oh shit what this time? I need to stop encouraging this, its going to bite is both in the ass one day._

"If I may, Santana, Father," he placed his hands on the table and took a deep breath.

"But He was pierced for our transgressions," he started slowly, "He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that bought us peace was Him. It was Him!" Justin shouted, eyes closed, head thrown back in exultation. "And by his stripes we are healed! Can I get an amen!" His hands spread wide over his head.

Too used to Justin's Sunday morning antics, Kurt and Santana sat stone-faced and waited for the "holy spirit" to pass so they could start eating.

Justin cocked an eye open. "Not so much? Can I get something here?"

"Sit your ass down and eat your food!" Santana fought her laughter down. "Theatricality must be genetic because I swear I saw your father act like an attention whore just like that in high school."

"Oh that's right I was the only one," Kurt turned his attention back to Justin. "And what did we learn this morning?"

"The Christian faith is based on human sacrifice," he happily tucked into his scrambled eggs.

Kurt's forehead became close acquaintance with the kitchen table. "And what do we do with this new knowledge?"

"Save it for a rainy day?" Justin wrinkled his nose. "I'm not stupid Dad I know that running my mouth off could get me into trouble. But if I'm not the one who starts it, well then."

"We live in Vegas Kurt," Santana added. "You don't have to be so afraid."

"Being afraid has always been second nature to me," Kurt sat back up and gave a sad smile to his little family. "And Sweetie, I know you're not stupid and that is a large part of what scares me. And yes Santana, I know we live in Vegas but that doesn't change the fact that there are assholes everywhere."

Santana snorted.

"Santana!" Kurt warned.

"Its just that—"

"Don't!"

"You'd think that you'd enjoy that there are assholes everywhere," she burst into laughter.

Father and son both found their heads dropped against the table.

"Uncalled for," Justin mumbled.

"Inappropriate conversation with a young child present."

"Hmmm, I was totally right," two pairs of glasz eyes glared up at her. "You are _both _drama queens."


	3. Out of the Island, Into the Highway

Kurt loved their house; he loved their peaceful neighborhood. Tucked in an older section of Las Vegas known as Spring Valley, it was a pleasant mix of young families and elderly people. Kurt had been adamant on a one-story house, because of his young child and an irrational fear of staircases.

_Nothing good ever happens on staircases, _he had always insisted.

The house came with a pool, a play set, and four bedrooms so they wouldn't be on top of each other. The schools were all within walking distance, it was quiet there, and it was safe. It was all the young father could hope for. A real dream come true and the perfect escape from Lima, Ohio.

With Las Vegas real estate still trying to recover from the bottom dropping out and a little help from their parents Kurt and Santana had an easy time making the house theirs.

It had needed some work but with Kurt's black belt in thrifty shopping and his father's desire to make the house perfect for his precious angel baby cupcake grandson it was a home in no time.

"Dad, you're going to hurt yourself!" Kurt called out. Watching Burt fight with the removable safety fence around the pool was equal parts hilarious and painful to watch.

"What if Justin wanders out here while no one is paying attention and falls in the pool? Then what?"

"He's four Dad and he's not blind, he knows there's a pool. Oh, and if you'll remember he knows how to swim. _You_ paid for the lessons!"

"I'm just sayin' its better safe than sorry son. I don't know what I would do if something happened to him. And believe me I can tell you what its like to worry about your son."

Kurt swallowed his guilt. He had been a constant source of worry for his father growing up. Hell, even now moving the precious angel baby cupcake across the country. To Las Vegas of all the blessed places.

"So just humor your old man yeah?" Burt smiled. This move was going very hard on him. And hard for Justin only as far as being separated from Papa Burt went.

"I promise I have it under control Dad," Kurt voice softened and he smiled back. "Want to see? Justin!"

"Coming!" The boy yelled back from inside the house where he was helping Mama Carol set up his new room. It took some time for his short legs to get him to the backyard. "Yeah?"

"Tell Papa Burt what will happen if you come out into the backyard by yourself without telling anyone."

Justin turned to his grandfather and recited, "Daddy will lock me in the attic until I'm eighteen and only feed me once a day."

Burt dropped his chin to his chest. "Kid I know how you are about the things you say to him; but what if he says that at school and the teacher or another parent hears that?"

Kurt held up one finger to his father. "What do you tell them Justin?"

"My daddy has a very morbid sense of humor."

Burt glared at the boy. "Do you even know what that means?"

"He thinks things are funny that not everyone else thinks is funny." Justin puffed up with pride at his knowledge. "Did I get it right Daddy?"

Kurt bit back his laughter at his little parrot that actually retained the words said to him, sometimes. "Yes sweetheart that was perfect." Kurt turned his attention back to Burt. "See? Totally under control."

Moving to Las Vegas had taken so much planning and was a very long process. Kurt had sort of fallen into being a bartender.

He had been content enough at the diner until he figured out what it was he really wanted to be doing. He was more than able to support the three of them with his tips alone. One had to appreciate the Vegas way of tip everyone and tip often. And until Santana could find a job that didn't require taking her clothes off Kurt took advantage of the free babysitting and took the long shifts as often as he could with a smile.

They had been in Vegas for eight months when he met Malaine. He had seen the woman sitting alone at a booth and was immediately thrown off by how much she looked like Justin's mother— _no don't think about Tasha._

"Hi I'm Kurt, I'll be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"How much do you hate working here honey?" She looked up at him through long lashes.

If he hadn't already been in a mild state of shock he would have been completely thrown off by that question. "Mm, pardon?"

The woman smiled. "You heard me. I saw what happened with those men a few moments ago."

Oh that. While Vegas proper might accept all walks of life with open arms it was more often the tourists blowing into town with their own small-minded hang ups causing problems.

When the three obvious tourists started to harass Kurt he had been quick to verbally beat them into their places. He wasn't a scared a scared sixteen year old boy anymore; he was a twenty-four year old man, and a father, the very thought of anyone talking like that around Justin made him see red.

"Sorry about that," Kurt blushed. He didn't really like losing his temper, or worse having other people bear witness.

"You don't need to apologize to me honey. You have quite a mouth on you. You ever think about slinging drinks?"

"What like a bartender? No I can't say that it ever crossed my mind." He looked around the empty diner. It was that strange time between 5am and 7am it was a ghost town in the city.

"I own an establishment on The Boulevard. It's between the Strip proper and Fremont actually. Are you familiar with the area?"

"I just moved here a few months ago but I'm learning my way around." Kurt offered another smile. He didn't feel the need to get into why he didn't get out much to the stranger.

"Well," she said as she reached into her purse; "I am never wrong about people and you strike me a person who would thrive working for me." She produced a glossy blue card.

_Malaine Q. _He gave the card a once over. "Mystics?"

"The name of my establishment honey. Stop by any night I'm always there. Give it a look and then come see me. Promise me you'll think about it, and I'll take a coffee."

Kurt and Santana despite their mutual, often, abrasive personalities could be very personable when they wanted to be. And when it came time to making friends with their neighbors for emergency babysitting purposes they had poured out all the charm.

The Hartford family two doors down were like angels sent from on high. A sweet older couple, their eldest daughter, always a bit of a free spirit, and best of all her five-year-old son, Jason.

So it was with no worries Kurt and Santana deposited Justin off for a sleepover and hit the streets.

"Are we really going to Deuce it tonight?" Santana whined.

"Oh come on! We're going to a bar and we have no child for the night and we're in Vegas. We haven't had a night like this since we were here looking at houses. Let's live a little and not have to worry about driving. And anyway the busses here are nice. And it's a beautiful night."

It was a short walk to their bus stop that would take them to the Strip. From there they would have to cross the boulevard to catch a northbound bus to reach the bar. And Kurt was right; there really was no beating a November evening in Las Vegas. Warm days and brisk nights.

Kurt had thought that the summer might kill them all, but after surviving so many humid Ohio summers, the dry desert heat was a most welcome change.

"I still can't believe we live here now," Santana was practically vibrating in her seat. "I mean fuck Kurt, Las Vegas? What the hell were we thinking! And why didn't we come here right after graduation?"

"Well I had school in New York and had to have a child and you— what the hell did you do again?"

Santana swatted at his shoulder, hard. "I had school too you ass."

The playful banter continued until their transfer. They both stopped on the sidewalk amidst the crowd to stare in awe of their surroundings.

Kurt knew in his heart that no matter how many times he saw it for the rest of his life, Las Vegas at night would always take his breath away. The way the lights danced in the night sky and could make him feel truly alive. Yes New York had a certain charm to it that he had appreciated when he was younger. But it always seemed to him, that it always stayed the same. Same rude people in a hurry all the time, same assholes that couldn't drive, same old, same old. But here life was like a flowing river. You never stepped into the same Vegas twice.

"Are you done mentally waxing poetic about this place?" Santana pulled on his arm. She knew him too well. "Let's go! I want to get drunk."

They spent the rest of the commute running a social commentary about the other passengers.

"I just can't imagine her looking into a mirror before she left and thinking, 'yes this is a good idea' can you?" Kurt scoffed at the over done, clearly mid-western woman, trying to hard to "fit in."

"Where is this place again?" Santana asked.

Kurt pulled out his phone to verify. "Next stop I think."

Santana pulled on his sleeve and pointed out the window. "Ohmigod Kurt, look!"

The building itself didn't look too terribly large, lit up as spectacularly as anything else on the Strip proper. A bright blue sign that gave the effect of a waterfall announced the name of the establishment. But it had to be more of a club. And then Kurt finally saw what had Santana in stitches.

The entire front wall was covered with placards and stickers and small signs. The centerpiece being a large rainbow flag.

"It's a gay club!" Santana barked out still laughing.

"Don't be too sure about that you ass. Look harder."

Religious symbols also littered the wall. Eastern, Western, pagan, all were represented. And Kurt smiled when another sign lit up beneath the flag, writing itself in script like magic: All Are Welcome Here

"Now's as good a time as any," Kurt reached out blindly to take his best friend's hand and take that step forward.

That was how he found himself almost four years later at one of Las Vegas's most popular and best kept secrets making as much in one night as he did in a week at the diner.

Even Santana got a job as another bartender. Malaine fell in love with her as well that night. She had to have the pair of them for the same reasons. Kurt's charm set all the women and straight men at ease and made everyone else want to fuck him, hard and fast over the bar. Santana's smoldering good looks consistently set all of the customers crotches on fire.

Malaine accommodated their every need. She sent them to a bartending tech school. She made their schedules so that one of them would always be home with Justin. They alternated every other month so that they could both work the more profitable weekends evenly. And for those rare nights that all hands were needed on deck Malaine converted an extra storage room into a bedroom for Justin. Furnished, TV, game consoles, the works.

Malaine quickly cut off all of Kurt's grumblings about Justin being tuned into a spoiled little prince.

"Oh hush up Daddy. You totally get off on the fact that people adore your son. And you love me that I would do anything for him."

Kurt blushed and relented. The easiest way to get into his heart was through his son.

Their little family routine was easily formed. Work, home, school, family and some on the side for both Kurt and Santana.

Kurt really had considered life close to perfect.

Or it was, until _he_ showed up.


	4. Past the Places Where You Used to Learn

Kurt had his back to the bar to do inventory before the evening rush got in. It was a Thursday and he remembered that there was a new band set to play. With the live bands they tended to bring in their own crowd. The crowd they brought in was always a test in Malaine's eyes. If they went with the general aesthetics of the club, the band could find a new home; if they clashed, the band would find themselves back on the boulevard.

He handed the list to the bar bitch (designated runner and cleaner). "Make sure these are handy for us, and you should bring up another case of water."

"Excuse me."

Kurt turned and his mouth fell open at the sight. _Wow. No one should be allowed to be that gorgeous._

"Can I ask you a question? I'm new here," a bright smile from the handsome stranger revealed perfect straight white teeth.

_Manners Kurt. _He put his hand out to the man. "I'm Kurt."

The man took it eagerly. "Blaine."

"How can I help you Blaine?" _Can I run my fingers through those curls for an hour? That would be a good start._

"I'm with the band playing tonight and I wasn't sure where I was supposed to leave my things."

_What color are your eyes? They're like a kaleidoscope of green and brown and amber and wait— _"Oh, were you not here for the tour? Malaine is usually good with that sort of thing."

Blaine actually blushed. "Well um—"

"Come on," Kurt beamed at him. He pulled on the hand he still held lightly to follow him. "I know a short cut." _Any excuse to hold a cute boy's hand? I'll bet he's got a lovely girlfriend with a gay brother and that's why he's so accepting of this. You're pathetic, Kurt. _

A point clearly driven home by the fact that Kurt led him the long way around the club into the staff lounge in the back.

"Here we are sugar," Kurt smiled at the shorter man and let go of his hand reluctantly.

Blaine did not smile back. "Please, don't call me sugar. My ex-boyfriend called me sugar and I hated it."

_Bless the Rockstar Baby Jesus. He's gay! Don't dance. _Kurt chuckled. "I had an ex who insisted on calling me muffin even when I asked him to stop, repeatedly."

"No muffin. I can remember that," Blaine winked.

Kurt felt his face heat up so he looked down at Blaine's empty hands. "So where are your things?"

He didn't think it possible but Blaine managed to blush even more. "Heh. Well you see, I'm really bad at icebreakers and I just really wanted to talk to you. I didn't think the whole I'm new to this town can you be my mentor route would really work." Blaine slapped his hand over his mouth.

"You seem to also have trouble controlling your brain to mouth filter." Kurt smiled all the more.

"Oh no that's just part of my charm."

They fell into a comfortable silence with one another.

Kurt cleared his throat and broke the spell. "I'd better head back to the bar. Those people can't get drunk by themselves."

"This place is really different from what I'm used to," Blaine looked around the staff lounge.

Kurt reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkles on Blaine's collar. "Next time don't forget your way new guy. You'll fit right in."

Blaine loved music, he loved performing for a crowd, loved being able to just let go on stage. And he was damn good at it too. But that first night at Mystics was one of the hardest nights of his life in every way imaginable; mostly due to one man. Kurt.

He had been living in Los Angeles for the previous nine years and he had thought that he had seen it all. He was wrong. He had never seen a more beautiful man in all his life. The way his hair was perfectly styled in the I-don't-really-give-a-shit kind of way that must have taken serious time and effort to get just right. He had a heart-melting smile. But those eyes.

_What color are they! Blue? Green? Was that yellow in them? How is it fair that one man can be that spectacular?_

And his high sweet smooth voice. _It's like silk over glass._

So yes, it made things like performing to the crowd, and making a good impression on the potential new boss, not staring at the man behind the bar, on the other side of the club, difficult. It also made it less than easy to move on the stage after sneaking a look over at said bartender. Especially when Blaine would catch him, looking and smiling, back.

_Rein it in Anderson! You're not some horny sixteen-year-old kid. You're actually worse! You're a horny twenty-seven year old man at half-mast over some bartender you just met and know nothing about. And stop winking at him for fuck's sake!_

Blaine found relief from it all in the very receptive crowd. The vibe in the club was palpable.

People who went to Mystics were looking for a good time, to sing along, to dance, to drink and above all to have fun. The sign at the front wasn't there for decoration. All were welcome to the joyous atmosphere and the number one rule was simple: Don't be an asshole. It was rare that there was ever a problem and the formidable bouncers strategically placed around the club always managed to restore the peace quickly.

At least that was how it had been explained to Blaine when they had first met with Malaine about the audition. It was to be a two-weekend trail period and depending on how it went; they could be sitting pretty with a regular gig at one of the best bars in Vegas.

Blaine knew he was already in love with the place. After the string of venues he had plowed through in LA filled with the elite and the spoiled this seemingly seedier club should have felt like a huge step backwards. But the truth was that Blaine actually felt more at home in Las Vegas, at Mystics, than he had anywhere else, ever.

Yes maybe he fled from LA because of a bad break-up feeling like less than a human being because of it. And the slim prospect of being the new front man for his old roommate's cousin's band had seemed like it could be the answer to all of his problems. But he would have to leave everyone and everything in LA that he knew and start his life all over again from scratch.

It had taken him seventy-two hours to pack up his essentials, sell everything else, hit the northbound I15, and never look back.

There had been an instant connection with his new band mates; almost like a dream they all seemed to mesh. Within the first week Blaine was settled into his new Vegas routine. The band had been working on getting an audition at Mystics for months and after one meeting with Malaine with their new lead singer it was a done deal. That solidified his place with them more than anything else ever could.

As luck would have it an old classmate had set up a small law practice in the city and had six vacant bedrooms for Blaine to choose from.

"Seems slightly superfluous, Wes, to have so much space when you live alone," Blaine said as he made a production of picking his room.

"Oh hey, you like the thought of having a place to live and a nice little well paying job with very flexible hours?"

Blaine had the good sense to look properly scolded. "Yes sir."

"Good. Then stop judging _my_ property purchase and pick a room. Preferably the guest quarters downstairs," Wes continued. "I don't think either of us want any guests either of us have over for a, shall we say, sleepover, running into each other."

Blaine feigned offence. "Just what kind of a boy do you take me for Wes? Sleepovers indeed."

Wes merely rolled his eyes at his friend. "I take you for a boy like any other boy. Now get settled and get dressed. I'm taking you out tonight to get you properly introduced."

"Introduced to what exactly?"

"Welcome to Sin City Blaine."

"So a little bird told me," Blaine grinned into the microphone, "that a Mystics' favorite singer is one of our own dear bartenders. So I want everyone in here to make some noise and get him or her up here! I have no idea who it is and I have a powerful curiosity."

_Please be Kurt, please be Kurt! Sweet Christ thank you thank you thank you!_

Blaine struggled with himself to not leap at the man as he made his way to the stage.

"Requests?" Blaine knew he was smiling like an idiot.

"Don't I need to know what you can play?" Kurt's eyebrow shot up.

"Just pick a song barkeep I'm sure we can manage to follow along," Blaine winked again. _Now you're officially a creeper._

"Fair enough. How about some Muse? Time is Running Out." Kurt took the microphone from Blaine and sashayed front and center.

Blaine was in awe of Kurt's singing. He didn't think the song choice would work well but it did, and the crowd loved every moment of it. It became apparent to Blaine that Kurt knew how to work his audience. And very well at that. As if his voice wasn't enough to make Blaine drool (he had always been a sucker for a gorgeous man and a throbbing baseline), but watching the lithe bartender strut up and down the stage was a new brand of torture. Kurt insisted on gyrating his hips that were almost begging to be gripped by strong hands, preferably Blaine's.

_How the hell can he move in those pants? _To say that they were skintight was an understatement. Form fitting black jeans tucked into knee-high boots. Blaine almost missed the end of the song he was so transfixed.

"Mic's all yours now." It was Kurt's turn to wink at him.

"Okay folks we'll be taking a break now!" Blaine quickly moved away from the piano. "So enjoy the DJ!"

_Must get to the bar. Get to the bar. Need a drink, yes. I'm feeling parched. Go with that._

Blaine managed to find a vacant stool in Kurt's section and waited to catch his eye. He enjoyed watching the man flit around behind the bar to fill the patron's orders. He did it all so smoothly; it was almost like a dance.

"Well hello there Blaine," Kurt stepped up in front of him. "Can I get you something?"

"Beer please," Blaine managed.

Kurt frowned for a moment. "You didn't strike me as a beer drinker."

Blaine laughed. As far as he was concerned beer was like sweet nectar from the Gods. "Well I can't drink the hard stuff right now."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Blaine repeated. "I'm working, well more auditioning, but still. I need to be professional."

Kurt shook his head. "Oh Blaine dear you have a lot to learn if you plan on sticking around." He turned his back to Blaine towards the shelves of liquor and Blaine thought that was the end of the conversation. He watched with wide eyes as Kurt plucked random bottles and began to mix them.

"Now," Kurt laughed. To Blaine it sounded like angels singing. "Who wants to buy the handsome young bartender and this guy a shot?"

Immediately customers were clamoring to have the honor.

"Well," Kurt produced two shot glasses filled with a pink liquid and set one in front of Blaine on the bar. "Maybe next round folks. This one is on me." He raised his shot.

Blaine plucked his from the bar and held it up. "This is a thing? We can do this?"

Kurt tapped his glass against Blaine's. With a wicked grin he threw back his head and drank the shot down in one gulp. Blaine didn't hesitate to ogle the sight of the long pale neck wanting nothing more than to kiss and nuzzle Kurt's bobbing Adam's apple.

Kurt set the empty glass down hard upside down on the bar and stared questioningly at Blaine. Realizing his faux pas in shot etiquette Blaine was fast in taking his drink. It was smooth and tasted like apples. Blaine suppressed a groan at the thought of Kurt's mouth tasting like apples at that very moment.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat as Kurt leaned over the bar and put his mouth beside Blaine's ear. "You have so much to learn about this place." He pulled back and standing straight shouted, "Welcome to Vegas!"


	5. You Never Could Get It

"I think you got the new guy drunk," Lynette, another of Mystics' beautiful bartenders told Kurt.

"What are you talking about?" The night was winding down and the last of the customers were out on the dance floor moving around with wild abandon. Blaine's band had proven to be a huge success with the local crowd. The real test was still to come with the tourist filled weekend proper.

"The singer for the new band, Shane? Dane?"

"His name is Blaine," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah him. Hey don't give me attitude I was close! Anyway, once you called open season on him and turned your back everyone started buying him shots. He's acting sillier than a little kid right now, on stage."

"I don't know what you're talking about. He's not forgetting any of the words and he's not getting angry. He's fine." In reality Kurt had noticed the charming decline of sober Blaine to happy as hell everyone's best friend Blaine as the night wore on. "It's Thursday anyway, nice and quiet. And he's adorable."

_Oh shit did I just say that out loud?_

Lynette was looking at Kurt like he had grown a second nose. "Who are you and what have you done with my favorite head bartender?"

She reached up and grabbed his face in her hands and brought him down to her eye level. "Kurt!" She cried at his nose. "If you can hear me don't panic. We'll figure out how to get the demon out of you! I won't let Justin become an orphan!"

Kurt swatted her away. "What the hell is wrong with you? And shut up about Justin yeah?"

She struck a thoughtful pose. "In the three years that I've known you, Kurt Hummel, I have never heard you refer to another man as adorable."

Kurt fought to roll his eyes at her again. So maybe he had a bit of a reputation to uphold.

"Hot? Yes. Fuckable? Yes. I'd break his back? More times than I can count! But adorable?" She grinned up at him. "You don't want him to know about Justin? I think you might like him a little."

"That is out of the question but I got your point. What's your point?"

That was part of the beauty at working at Mystics. They all managed to speak each other's English.

"My point is: you need to teach that boy the ropes. And don't mess with him or you're going to regret it."

Kurt waved off her words a moment too soon.

"Hey, let's get Kurt back up here one more time!" Blaine laughed into the microphone. "Whaddya say? Come on barkeep! Sing a song with me!"

"Sweet hell I'm a prophet! Get your ass up there, Kurt." She gave him a firm push. "Make it good for your 'adorable' little singer!"

Kurt wasn't sure why he took offense to the "little" remark.

"I don't feel like singing right now. It's almost last call." He shook his head at Blaine.

"Aw Kurt come sing with me please? You're breaking my heart up here," Blaine pouted from the stage.

"Is he seriously making that face right now?" Lynette asked. "Oh for fuck's sake Kurt," she whined, "get up there before I start crying!"

"Goddammit! He is not allowed to drink anymore!" Kurt had a fierce argument with himself as to where in the desert he was going to dump the man's body as he made his way to the stage.

"Oh yay! He's here! Sing with me beautiful. Looks like I have a new duet partner!" Blaine nodded back to his keyboard player.

Kurt recognized the karaoke standard drunken bar song quick enough when Blaine started to sing to him. Kurt threw himself into the flirty duet. He might as well have a little fun before he read Blaine the riot act.

Blaine really was just a playful man-child. He was all smiles and pouty lips as he danced around Kurt. Every so often a warm hand would come to rest on Kurt's hip and give a gentle squeeze. Kurt played right back when he would press their bodies together before shimmying away just as quick.

The song was over far too soon for his liking but he appreciated the moment too cool off.

_Another minute of that and I would have stripped him right here on the stage and _really_ given everyone a show._

At least they were met with enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

"Thank you," Kurt waved to the adoring audience. "Last call folks. Let's here it for our potential new house band!"

Kurt waited until Blaine was done bowing before taking him by the hand and leading him to the back room for the second time that night. It was quiet in the back, away from the patrons, away from the coworkers. Once the bar was cleared out cleaning would start. They would have at least forty minutes alone before people would be getting ready to leave for the night.

"How much have you had to drink?" Kurt asked.

"Dunno. Lost count after seven or twelve," Blaine was less steady when not concentrating on performing. "What was that first shot you gave me? It was my favorite."

"A Washington Apple," Kurt replied.

"Yeah it tasted like apples. Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes Blaine," Kurt guided him carefully to one of the sofas in the staff lounge.

"How are you not drunk? I saw you take just as many shots as me." Blaine was less than graceful as he plopped down.

"The bartenders use different shot glasses than the patrons, they're not exactly a full shot. People are usually too drunk to notice. _And_ I drank a lot of water. _And_ I've been doing this for a while." Kurt just couldn't help himself as he ran his fingers through Blaine's sweat soaked curls and sat down beside him. "Blaine?"

"Mmmmmm, feels good," Blaine all but purred at Kurt. "I think I either need a special shot glass too or just stick to beer."

"Yeah you need to pace yourself better," Kurt smiled down at him. "Blaine do you have anyone who can come pick you up?" Kurt didn't want to pull his hand away but there was no getting Blaine to concentrate otherwise. He halted his movements and Blaine's attention was back on Kurt's words. "Do you have a ride?"

"The friend that I live with is a real dickhead if he gets woken up too early. It is," Blaine brought up his watch and attempted to focus, "almost four. The other guys live in the opposite direction from me. So the answer is no. I'll just sleep it off in my car."

Kurt stared at the drunken mess of a man, horrified at the thought of him sleeping in his car.

"Blaine it's January. If you stay in your car you'll freeze to death."

Blaine frowned and started to rub his face against Kurt's still hand. "Don't stop please? What do _you_ suggest then?"

_You're too drunk to be of any use to me tonight. But if you stay at my place there's no way for me to keep you from finding out about Justin just yet. So that only leaves…._

"I'm going to drive you home," Kurt stroked the curls again. "Will you have a way back to your car in the morning?"

Blaine nodded against his hand. "Wes'll bring me back."

"Do you think you'll be able to give me directions?" Kurt couldn't hold back his smile.

Blaine laughed. "I can do you one better, I can give you the address so you can program it into your phone."

After directing the evening clean up Kurt found himself half dragging the inebriated singer through the parking lot of Mystics. A grown man who was proving to be fussier than his own son had ever been in his life.

"I can walk on my own you know." Blaine huffed into Kurt's shoulder.

"Well then prove it to me." Kurt stepped away but had to rush back as Blaine's legs wobbled. "Yeah that's what I thought."

Once Kurt had them both secure in the Navigator he asked, "What direction am I going?"

"That way!" Blaine waved his hand before him.

"Straight?"

"Not straight Kurt," Blaine voice suddenly turned very serious. "We go forward, never straight. Get it?" Blaine giggled.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he laughed anyway. "Where do you live Blaine?"

Blaine contemplated his fingernails for a moment. "I'm too embarrassed to say it," he mumbled.

Kurt let his forehead drop onto the steering wheel. "That doesn't even make any sense. Why is it embarrassing?"

Blaine's hazel eyes were wide, "Wouldn't you be embarrassed having to say that you live in Paradise?"

Kurt gave up trying to figure out Blaine's drunken logic. Everything about the man's body language was telling him that Blaine was reaching the end of his conscious rope for the night. And that Kurt would be lucky if he got him home before he passed out. Then he really would be stuck with him.

"Paradise is a nice area of town," Kurt assured him. "Well now I have a general idea of where I'm going."

"I think," Blaine blurted out, "that if I want to stay awake and I really, really, want to stay awake, you had better keep me talking. But nothing too deep in case I don't remember and end up spilling embarrassing secrets."

"Oh that sounds promising. But for now how about that address."

Blaine rattled off his place of residency. "So," Blaine's head lolled to the side to stare at Kurt. "What brought you to Vegas Kurt?"

Kurt scoffed at the touristy line. "Had to escape the small town mentality of the small town I lived in. Las Vegas is the last port for cynics like me."

"I don't think you're a cynic, I think you're pretty," Blaine's grin was lopsided and undeniably adorable.

_He thinks I'm pretty?_ Kurt's heart picked up speed. _Damn everyone who bought him shots tonight! Including me!_

"I'm from Ohio," Blaine continued. "Your small town mentality can't beat that."

Kurt was taken aback. "Oh yes it can because I'm from Ohio too."

Blaine sat up straighter. "Shut the hell up! Where in Ohio? Did you come here after high school?"

"Um no. I went to New York first for college. I'm from Lima." Kurt turned onto the southbound I15. Las Vegas was peaceful at this time of the night. Too late for the heavy partiers and too early for the same. The lights from The Strip glowed like beacons clear and crisp in the winter sky. He let the silence continue as he enjoyed one of his favorite sights. He looked back over and saw Blaine smiling at him. "What about you?"

"I ran the other way. I went to L.A. and sunshine. Graduated from UCLA with a degree in music. And as you can see, I've come so far since then." Blaine frowned again. Kurt wanted to lean over and kiss the wrinkles between his eyebrows.

_Whoa! Where the hell did that thought come from? Focus Hummel. UCLA? Justin is going to love that. _Would, _would love that! What is wrong with you right now?_.

"I-uh-hear that's a pretty tough program," Kurt knew he needed to keep the man talking.

"Well its not easy. What did you study? Where did you study?" Under the slurring Kurt couldn't help but notice how genuinely interested Blaine sounded.

"I majored in dramatic literature at NYU."

"That's cool, NYU isn't easy either," Blaine nodded. "Oh look there's my house."

Kurt pulled in front of a beautiful Spanish style house set far back on a well-kept yard. In the middle of the desert, grass meant money.

"This looks like a nice house," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded again. "Oh that it is. It has seven bedrooms. Seven! Who needs that? Especially since its just Wes and me. I live in the," he raised his hands in the air to demonstrate the air quotes, "'guest quarters.' I live in the basement. It is like having my own apartment though."

_Why is he telling me this? Oh God he's not going to-_

"Did you want to come in for a bit? Maybe, keep talking?" Blaine asked with almost pleading eyes.

Kurt's mind raced through every option he could imagine. He could go in and spend some quality drunken time with this amazingly beautiful man. He could set the precedent to have fun nights at Blaine's and that would keep him from finding out about Justin for a while. He could turn him down nicely and hope for a sober encounter in the near future. He could turn him down completely and hopefully make a new friend.

The crestfallen look on Blaine's face had Kurt berating himself for over thinking everything. For all he knew Blaine wasn't even interested in him in _that_ way.

"Don't make that face sweetie," he placed a gentle hand on Blaine's cheek. He chuckled when Blaine nuzzled against his palm. "It's after four-thirty and by the time I get home it'll be five and I have things to do in the morning."

Kurt leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Blaine's soft lips. Blaine sighed when he pulled away.

"Rain-check?" Kurt asked.

"Definitely, rain-check." Blaine's smile could have put The Strip to shame. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Kurt waited until Blaine disappeared into the house before he pulled away to race home before Justin woke up for school.

He could still feel Blaine's warm lips on his own, could still see that bright smile.

_Oh yeah. He's interested._


	6. It's Already Coming In

"Dad, Dad, Dad!" Justin burst into Kurt's bedroom. "Dad! You awake? Tana said you have to take me to school today."

Kurt rolled onto his back to face his very awake, very energized son. It had always been a heady thing, to have your own, once unique, eyes staring back at you first thing in the morning.

"Dad, did you hear me? Your eyes are open but you're not moving," Justin started to bounce slightly on the bed.

"Justin it's seven-thirty in the morning and it's a _my_ Friday. Why am I taking you to school?" Kurt reached out and grabbed the moving boy and pinned him against his chest in a tight grip.

"Dad! Let me go!" Justin put up a weak struggle to free himself. The bare minimum of what was necessary of a growing boy's disdain for morning cuddles with his father.

So when the boy stilled in his arms Kurt buried his happy smile in Justin's hair. He sent thanks to the universe that he had one more day to enjoy this before Justin thought he was "too old".

He was sad to break the moment. "Let's try this again. Justin, why am I taking you to school?"

Justin sighed into Kurt's shoulder. "Tana said that she's got an appointment with her lady doctor. So she's already gone because of traffic. And I already ate so you just have to take me to school."

"Fair enough. Go on and make sure you have all your things while I put on some clothes."

"Okay," Justin shot out of the room like a bullet, somehow the door softly closed behind him.

Alone again Kurt reached up to his headboard and stretched his body out all the way to his toes, cracking every joint he could manage one by one. Normally after work he would have driven straight home and into bed so he would be less of a groggy asshole when Justin said goodbye for the day. But he just had to be a nice guy last night and take Blaine home. So instead of having a refreshing nap Kurt was borderline psychotic with exhaustion. Lucky Justin.

Kurt pulled on the pair of pajama pants he kept handy by his bedside and stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He sighed at the memories of high school and the first half of college when a quarter to six in the morning was the _start_ of his day. After a sea salt exfoliating shower he would sit down at his vanity and complete an over zealous moisturizing routine. Every morning spending an hour and half on naturally flawless skin that could have been better spent sleeping or having more of a breakfast than a granola bar, or sleeping, or generally being a more productive person. Or sleeping!

_Just twenty more minutes and I can go back to sleep until Justin comes home. Then family time, dinner, a quick nap and then up and ready for the always exciting Friday night shift at the bar. And Blaine's first Friday night._

He slipped on his oldest and most comfortable pair of Converse and a hoodie. He was just dropping the kid off at school not hitting the runway. He let his thoughts wander to Blaine, again.

_I wonder how Blaine will do with the larger crowd and full of tourists._ Kurt smiled at the thought. The way Blaine fed off the locals the night before was nothing short of amazing. _He'll do great as long as no one gets him drunk._

"Have a good time at work last night Dad?" Justin asked from the kitchen.

"It was fine. Normal Thursday. Decent tips. Why?" Kurt leaned against the table across from his son.

Justin bit his lip and grinned. "You're kinda smiling like an idiot right now."

"I am not!" Kurt felt himself blush. It was too early to be called out by his kid. It was going to be one of _those_ days.

"Yes, yes you are. But don't worry. I'm not judging you. It's nice to see you smile like that. Didn't a new band start last night?" He kept up as he followed his father into the garage.

Kurt grabbed his keys from the hook. "Yes. Get in the car."

"Meet anyone new in the new band?" Justin lost the fight against the giggles.

"You ask too many questions. Put on your seatbelt."

Questions that didn't stop for the entire drive to school.

"What's his name Dad?" Justin sing-songed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Does he sing? Is he a good singer? Bass player? Or, dear god! He's not the drummer is he?"

"There is nothing wrong with drummers Justin. Uncle Finn is a drummer. And stop it."

"Guitar?"

"Piano." _Dammit!_

"A-ha! I knew that there was someone!" Justin's feet kicked out in excitement. "What's his name Dad?"

Kurt pulled to the curb of the school. "Okay son have a good day at school. No getting into any fights and try to not learn something that I already know incase you need help with your homework."

"You're no fun. I'll get it out of you later," Justin gave him a smug smile. "Patience is a virtue that I happen to posses." He closed the car door and flounced towards a group of children that Kurt recognized as Justin's close friends.

Kurt couldn't let a golden opportunity like this to just go to waste. In a flash he was sitting in his open window with his elbows on the top of the Navigator.

"Okay Justin Sweetheart Hummel. Daddy loves you so much. I'll be waiting for you at home, my precious angel baby cupcake!" Kurt smiled and waved at his horrified son. "Bye-bye darling." He blew the boy a kiss for good measure.

He looked into the rearview mirror as he drove away and was pleased to see the kids he had known since Justin started school laughing along with Justin. He was proud of his son's ability to surround himself with a good solid core group of friends. Kurt had no doubt that his son would have a very different high school experience from his own.

Kurt's smile only grew when he heard his phone chime with a new text message.

_Well played. You win. No more questions. –Justin_

Kurt replied from the garage.

_Don't try to out due the master my son. You are not prepared. I 3 U –Dad_

As it turned out, Justin was a much more worthy adversary than Kurt had been willing to give him credit for.

"So, Hummel," Santana was perched above him on the armrest as he dozed on the couch. "Word around the water cooler is that there might be a boy man enough to make even you blush."

Kurt tried to wave her away to no avail.

"Come on Kurtie. You know how we feel about lying in this house," she was placating him.

"Santana," Kurt groaned into the couch cushion, "you can't always believe the rumor mill. You know that people who work at bars can't be trusted."

She gasped. "Who said anything about anyone at the bar? My source is much closer to you than that."

She reached down to tuck Kurt's hair behind his ear. A spot she knew was sweet for him.

But he was in no mood to be pet.

"Justin." Kurt sat up. "He's only supposed to use that cell for emergencies."

"Oh Kurt don't pout, you'll get wrinkles," she slid down and plopped beside him. "You can't blame the kid. First time in years he sees his father crushing on another guy? Sounds like an emergency to me."

Was he crushing? And how would Justin know what that looked like anyway? The last time that Kurt had any inclinations towards any sort of romance with another man Justin had been three. Back when Kurt had still been so young and naïve to think that being a single father and dating would be so easy. Cute kids were supposed to be better than a puppy right? And there was no toddler cuter than Justin, ever.

So when he had come up with the brilliant idea to take Justin on a day trip to Columbus for Pride, he thought it was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Daddy want ice cream!" Justin squealed from his stroller.

"Justin you just had funnel cake. That's a lot of sugar for your little body," Kurt tried to explain.

Justin twisted to look up at Kurt with big shining eyes. "Please Daddy?"

"Oh my God how can you possibly say no to a face like that?" A boy, no a man, approached them. "Daddy please let him have some ice cream! He's breaking my heart."

"And who is going to save my breaking heart when the sugar rush hits him?" Kurt noticed how warm the other man's smile was. How it made his brown eyes light up.

"Well," the man took a step closer to Kurt, "this place is going to stop being 'family friendly' in like an hour anyway. And there happens to be a nice park down the street that you can just let him run around and work off that sugar. Unless there's someone else you need to run that by first?"

"No," Kurt almost shouted out. "Um, it's just Justin and me, there's no one else."

_Way to not look desperate._ Kurt berated himself.

"My name's Tom."

"Kurt," he took the offered hand. "And this is Justin, my- my son."

Tom kneeled beside the stroller. "Heya Justin. Would you like Daddy and me to take you to the park?"

"Can I have ice cream?" Justin pouted.

"Well Daddy? What do you say?" Tom flashed his own puppy dog eyes up at Kurt.

It didn't last long.

The novelty of dating a man with a kid faded quicker than Kurt had thought it would. Cancelled dates due to a sick child; not having the freedom of the completely unencumbered. It all piled up until the inevitable conversation.

"You're wonderful Kurt. I really care about you and Justin. You're a great father and your priorities _should_ be to Justin, of course. It's not you it's me. I'm just not _there_ yet. You were meant for this but, in my life, right now, I need someone a little more there. For me. I know it sounds selfish but look at it from my side. There's someone out there for you Kurt. Someone who will love you and Justin the way that you both deserve to be loved. Maybe when Justin is older and not so dependent on you. I really hope that we can stay friends."

Kurt shuddered at the memory. Sure he had been disappointed in the moment, he had grown really fond of Tom. And worse, so had Justin. The poor boy had been heartbroken to find out that Tom wouldn't be coming around anymore to play with him. And that had pissed Kurt off even more than being dumped.

But it had been an important life lesson. The only relationships worth a damn in Kurt's life was with his family. His family was all that mattered.

"Jesus Kurt! You're not still stuck on that douche bag from Pride are you? That was five years ago!" Santana scoffed. "Kurt that guy was an asshole! He was twenty-seven going on four and that was the only reason he got along so well with Justin."

"Where is all this coming from Tana?" Kurt grumbled and tried to bury his head into her shoulder. "I need sleep. I have a shift tonight."

"Yes you do. So I'll leave you to your beauty sleep," she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "But don't think that this conversation is over. I need to clean up in here so go to your room to sleep."

Kurt wobbled on his feet and made his way to his room. Even stretched out on his own comfortable bed he couldn't manage to shut his brain off long enough to go back to sleep.

He had just met Blaine the night before and while having met someone an hour before rarely stopped him from having a little fun Kurt knew that this was different. Blaine was different. As to the how and the why and all those other pesky incidentals, Kurt had no clue.

It was just too strange that after only one night to feel so, something. He almost felt like a teenager again experiencing his first real crush on another boy. Only, unlike in high school, this crush had a chance of reciprocating. Maybe.

It's not like Blaine had gone running for the hills after Kurt had pressed their lips together. It wasn't that Kurt didn't _want _to make a move on Blaine, to run his fingers through such luscious looking thick curly hair. To feel Blaine's body over him, to-

Kurt shook his head to clear _that_ line of thinking.

He needed to stop being so concerned about the amazing singer with the beautiful smile.

_And there is that whole working together thing._ He reminded himself._ One really shouldn't piss in the company pool and all._

But maybe he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Kurt pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and kicked his legs out in frustration.

_Why am I even thinking about this?_

He forced his eyes closed and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Kurt had never been so nervous to go to work before and that was including his first day.

"Hey, Kurt!" Blaine bounced across the break room to Kurt's side.

"Hello Blaine," Kurt couldn't help but smile back. The man's enthusiasm to even just say hello was infectious.

Blaine sighed. "Look, sorry about last night. If I said anything out of line or did anything. I don't think I did but it never hurts to apologize or something. You're not talking. I _did_ say something stupid! I-"

Kurt laughed in earnest, "Stop. I can't get a word in with you babbling." Kurt pulled his mouth into a pout. "You really don't remember anything?"

Blaine breathed what must have been a sigh of relief. "Oh no Kurt, I remember everything but I wanted to make sure none of what I remember saying like pissed you off or anything," he quickly explained.

"And why would anyone get pissed off at being called pretty?" Kurt grinned. "I've never been called pretty before."

_Why don't you just bat your eyelashes at him while you're at it with the flirting? Give the man a coy giggle maybe?_

Blaine had the good sense to blush. "Yeah see that. Okay. I uh- seem to remember also that you um- kissed me."

Kurt slowly leaned forward, his lips a breath away from Blaine's. "You ramble when you're nervous. How else was I supposed to shut you up?"

He waited a beat to see what Blaine's reaction would be and was momentarily hurt when the other man pulled away, laughing.

"By all means feel free to shut me up like that anytime," Blaine gave him another brilliant smile. "But right now I had better get to the stage."

"For the sound check?" Kurt shrugged.

"For the sound check," Blaine continued to smile. He reached up and gave Kurt's forearm a gentle squeeze. Naturally, Kurt couldn't help but flex a little.

"But Kurt?"

_God does he _have _to say my name with every other sentence like that?_ Kurt gave himself a mental kick to focus on where Blaine was standing at the door.

"Yeah?" Kurt fought the wince at how high his voice sounded.

"Maybe tonight after work we could get something to eat? Sober me this time?"

_If I get a coffee I could last through breakfast and still be able to go to sleep when I got home. I just need to text Justin that I might not be home when he wakes up. Wouldn't be the first time._

"Yeah sure, I'd like that."


End file.
